The matriarch of this family, Tanya (or "Tanna," as she's known to me) and I have been best friends for a very, very long time. Almost half our lives, actually. She's the person who nags me to drink more water and write more. I'm sure she would just call it gentle, well intentioned goading, though. I push her to be more accepting of herself, to try new things like sushi and dyeing her hair and to watch more television so I can complain about the awful writers. She refuses to watch more tv and is extremely tentative when it comes to physical changes, but has tried sushi and actually likes it now (thank god - it would be a shame to throw almost 20-years of friendship away over fish and rice but what can you do?). So, that says something. She's been there for me more times than I can count; whenever I've needed her. I love her as a sister - not like one - and treat her as such. We've had fights and falling-outs, reconciliations, laughs and fun. We've lived life together, with all it's messiness and imperfections, and have somehow managed to keep it all together, together.
Her family is my family and vice-versa. I'm on her blog (did I mention she's also an incredibly talented photographer?) and she's finally on mine. Two halves and all that jazz, I suppose.
Also, her family loves zombies. Almost as much as I love them (her family - not zombies).